


A Cherry Without Any Stone

by Shinybug



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, First Time, Friendship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-17
Updated: 2011-08-17
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinybug/pseuds/Shinybug
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day without rank or responsibility.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Cherry Without Any Stone

*~*~*~*

"A picnic?"

"A luncheon out of doors, a meal taken upon the grass of a convenient clearing or meadow. Wine, bread, cheese, good friends. Laughter and fun. Often accompanied by ants and bees."

Arthur tried not to roll his eyes and mostly succeeded. "Yes, thank you, I know what a picnic is. My question was more--why?"

Morgana beamed at him, and it was like the sun rising unexpectedly in the west. "Because it's May, Arthur. It's May."

That seemed to be the whole explanation right there, although Arthur waited politely for anything further. Morgana just continued to smile at him in that unsettling, brilliant way, eyes twinkling, and Arthur knew he had already lost.

"Fine," he grudgingly replied, already dreading the excursion. "When?"

"I was thinking tomorrow. We could leave mid-morning, no need to rush. It's meant to be a relaxing day, after all, just the four of us. I'll ask Gwen to enlist Merlin's help with the food and supplies."

"Supplies? There are supplies, now?"

Morgana gave him a long-suffering look. "Trust me. At my picnics, I require supplies. You'll thank me afterward."

Unaccountably, that made Arthur apprehensive, although to be fair he didn't trust anything of which the sole purpose was to be 'relaxing.' He had far too much to worry about on a daily basis to waste time trying not to worry about it.

Still, Morgana was smiling genuinely, and Arthur couldn't bring himself to steal that happiness from her face. It happened so rarely in general, and even more rarely in his direction.

"So what do you want me to do?"

She touched his arm lightly, in thanks, he supposed. "Just show up, and do try to have a good time, Arthur. If you can remember how."

Arthur narrowed his eyes at her but she just winked and turned away in a swirl of skirts.

Wonderful.

*~*~*~*

"So...this picnic idea of Morgana's..." Arthur began, watching Merlin fold and put away Arthur's freshly laundered clothes by candlelight.

"It's brilliant, isn't it? I mean, how long has it been since any of us have had a day off?" Merlin glanced over his shoulder and Arthur was struck by the same unfettered happiness he'd seen in Morgana.

"Crown princes do not get 'days off,'" Arthur interjected, glowering at the parchment on the table before him, a tedious small-landowner dispute he was negotiating. "And what does Morgana need with a day off anyway, every day is a day off for her. Has her needlepoint become too taxing?"

Merlin didn't say anything, and after a long moment Arthur looked up to find Merlin watching him from the wardrobe, a strange look on his face.

"What, Merlin? Spit it out."

"Well," Merlin began hesitantly, and it got Arthur's attention because most of the time Merlin just said whatever was on his mind whether it was appropriate or not. "Who do you think runs this castle?"

Arthur spread his hands, gesturing vaguely. "My father, and by proxy, me."

Merlin shook his head and came over to lean his hip lightly on the table. Arthur glared at him, but he didn't straighten. "No, I don't mean who runs the kingdom. I mean the castle. Morgana oversees all the every day stuff, like meals and schedules and cleaning duties and such, when she's well enough to see to it. On the days that she's not, Gwen speaks for her. I thought you knew that."

His tone implied that Arthur really should have, which Arthur didn't like at all. He shifted uncomfortably, frowning. "I was under the impression that the stewards saw to those things."

"They do, but they report to Morgana. You really didn't know?"

Arthur glared at him and Merlin shrugged, turning away and fussing with Arthur's bed.

"Well, I suppose we could all do with a brief distraction, then," Arthur allowed, ignoring the oddly guilty feeling tightening his chest.

"Exactly," Merlin agreed mildly, smiling again. "A day without rank or responsibility."

"I don't know about that," Arthur warned.

"That's just what Morgana said," Merlin said defensively.

Arthur grimaced. "Without rank? How does she expect me to do that?"

Merlin laughed, and Arthur blinked at the sound, rarely heard. "I don't think you'll be expected to do much more than pour your own wine, if that's what you're worried about. Gwen said Morgana just wanted us to be ourselves for a day, without worrying about our stations. I think it's brilliant."

"You would," Arthur grunted, rubbing his temple. He felt even more uncomfortable with the whole idea now that he'd heard the full extent of Morgana's plan, which he would be willing to bet she withheld from him on purpose. He sighed and glanced at the parchment in front of him again, finally dipping his quill into an ink bottle and signing his name with a flourish. Another squabble settled. Huzzah. He leaned back and rested his eyes, thinking about sleep.

"So what do you think, can you handle not ordering me around for one day?" Merlin asked teasingly, coming to stand behind Arthur's chair, and Arthur felt Merlin gripping the high back of the chair behind his head.

"Merlin," Arthur said slowly. "If I choose to go along on this ridiculous excursion now, you will be very lucky indeed if I can manage not to order you to go jump in a lake with iron shoes on tomorrow. But keep in mind that's tomorrow, and you're still my servant tonight. So take your hands _off my chair at once_!"

Merlin scrambled backwards as Arthur stood up, putting his hands in the air defensively and trying to look deferential. Arthur closed his eyes and sighed, trying to remember what life had been like before he'd acquired the worst manservant in the history of everything.

"And make sure to bring cherries, yeah?" Arthur stomped over to his bed, shedding his tunic over his head as he went. "I like cherries," he explained in a more reasonable voice, stripping his breeches down his legs and throwing them at Merlin, who caught them one-handed.

"Yes, I know," Merlin replied gently, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Merlin dropped the clothes on the floor in a pile and Arthur did his best to ignore it, and Merlin handed him his nightshift.

Arthur felt Merlin's eyes on him as he reached over his head to pull the shift down, and when he looked up Merlin looked away. "Why do you look at me the way you do, Merlin?" Arthur asked, curious and tired.

"I don't look at you any particular way, my lord," Merlin responded evenly, giving him a bland smile and gathering up the discarded clothes for the laundry pile. "If that's all?"

Arthur nodded, watching Merlin leave quietly. For the first time in a very long time, possibly ever, he found himself wondering what Merlin held back during those few-and-far-between moments when he chose to hold his tongue. Rank and responsibility, indeed, Arthur thought to himself, and climbed into bed.

*~*~*~*

Arthur lay abed longer than he usually did, partly because he knew there was nothing that needed his immediate attention, having already cleared his schedule for the day, and partly because Merlin never arrived to dress him.

He was working himself up to a princely snit when he realized that Merlin must have decided that the 'day without rank or responsibility' had begun at dawn, and so his services as manservant were no longer required. Arthur heaved a great sigh, the first of many he feared would occur that day, and finally rolled out of bed.

He found to his surprise that Merlin had thought to lay his clothes out the night before, but he stared dubiously at the little pile for a minute before beginning to dress. It seemed Merlin had chosen for Arthur the plainest, commonest garb he owned; brown breeches and a cream linen tunic sat next to Arthur's old boots, the pair that used to be his favorite before the 'rat incident' had claimed the toe of one boot. Upon examination he saw that the little chewed hole had been mended, and Arthur wondered at it, poking at the damaged place that had been patched up with the tiniest stitches he had ever seen.

In these clothes, Arthur thought as he looked at himself in the small mirror on the wall after dressing himself, he would be taken for barely better than a peasant. He frowned and tried to feel annoyed like he had the night before, but instead all he had felt had been replaced by a vague sense of uncertainty. He felt too light, unencumbered and oddly defenseless. He strapped a thin belt with his hunting knife around his hips and felt a little better.

He heard sounds of laughter in the courtyard below and leaned out the open window to see. Morgana and Gwen were already below with four horses saddled and ready, and Morgana tipped her head back and caught sight of him. She smiled and waved him down, and Arthur found himself waving back with limp fingers in acknowledgment, feeling foolish.

As he was turning to the door it swung open, naturally without a knock, and Merlin was bounding in unannounced. "Arthur, are you ready to--"

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him over the use of his name, wondering if this was what he could expect for the rest of the day. Merlin had trailed off with an audible swallow, staring at him with wide eyes. Arthur felt a flush creeping up his neck. "What, do I look ridiculous? You picked out the damn clothes, Merlin," he accused him nervously.

Merlin shook himself visibly, breathless in a way that made Arthur think he had run up the stairs. "No, no, you look--really good, actually. Just, come on, we're waiting for you. If I had known it would take you this long to dress yourself I would have come up anyway. Even if it is my day off."

He looked so smug about it, too, so very pleased with himself, and Arthur caught him by the scruff of the neck as he strode past, yanking Merlin along beside him. "Don't push it," he growled, squeezing just hard enough to cause Merlin to make a little whining noise of mild distress. Arthur felt much better then, and released him with a smile that was all teeth. "Shall we?"

 

*~*~*~*

They rode for just short of an hour into the forest beyond the castle, Morgana having already picked their destination ahead of time. She had chosen well, Arthur had to admit. It was a relatively safe area of the forest, one that Arthur had hunted in many times before and never encountered anything more dangerous than the occasional stag. This far off the main road they wouldn't have to worry about bandits either, although Camelot was fairly free of them to begin with, something that Arthur took pride in.

They followed the river for a few minutes and then along its smaller tributary, a respectable stream about knee-deep in most places that Arthur recalled had some excellent fish. He realized with mild disappointment that he hadn't been fishing in several years, and began to wonder how many other pleasurable pastimes he'd been neglecting in his quest for adulthood. He could think of one particular pastime that had suffered neglect recently as a result of long days spent being responsible at his father's side and long nights hurrying about rescuing people (often Merlin) from one disaster or another.

He had become rather familiar with his own hand of late, resignedly. Arthur didn't blame anyone in particular, despite the fact that his natural inclination was to blame Merlin for everything. Loneliness came with the weight of the crown, he was beginning to realize. Just look at his father.

"This way," Morgana called, and Arthur looked up to see that everyone else had gone off in a slightly different direction toward a small clearing in the trees, bright with sunlight. Arthur twitched his mount's reins and followed them at a trot, feeling foolish for daydreaming.

It was a very lovely spot, Arthur saw as he dismounted, looking around. The grass was thick underfoot and the moss on the tree roots was soft. Yellow light dappled the ground, filtering through the thin canopy. Nearby Arthur could hear the rush of the stream over rocks, and some low-voiced birds conversed overhead.

"Well?" Morgana asked him, eyebrows raised as she patted her horse's neck.

"It's not horrible," Arthur allowed as haughtily as he could, and Gwen laughed out loud while Morgana shook her head indulgently. Arthur found himself smiling a little bit.

"Arthur, help me with the horses?" Merlin asked, and his manner was even more insolent than normal--no, Arthur amended, that wasn't insolence. Rather Merlin was just relaxed, speaking to Arthur as he might if everything else between them was stripped away. Arthur suddenly recalled his thought from last night, about what Merlin would say if there was no reason to hold back, and was so caught by the notion that he thought, ' _what the hell, it's only one day_.'

"Sure," he replied easily, taking Gwen's reins from her hand and leading the horses off into the shade. Without looking directly he caught a glimpse of Merlin's surprised and pleased expression, and something in Arthur warmed, like the last bit of winter thawing out.

Together he and Merlin watered the horses in the stream and removed their saddles. They worked silently side by side, and Arthur thought of their brief time in Ealdor with a strange fondness. After a quick rub down with rags they left the horses tethered under the trees nearby and rejoined the picnic.

Morgana and Gwen had been busy spreading out a huge blanket on the grass in the partial shade of a mighty oak and setting out the food. Arthur's mouth watered at the array of delights, surprised because he had had a much simpler idea of what a picnic was supposed to be. Clearly, Morgana had other notions, and Arthur was forced to consider that she might be just a little bit genius.

Gwen and Merlin had obviously charmed the cook, because there was smoked pork, several fragrant cheeses, fresh flaky bread in little miniature loaves, and an assortment of pastries all laid out on little dishes that had been glazed in bright Pendragon red. At the center of it all was a large bowl filled with apples, pears, and a small mountain of red cherries. There were four goblets and several wineskins, too, which Morgana was busy pouring. There were even small cushions scattered about for them to recline upon.

Arthur looked up, dazzled. "How did you fit all this on the horses?" he asked of the group in general, and Merlin caught his eye with a smirk.

"We have ways," he said mysteriously, and Gwen snorted and rolled her eyes.

Merlin flopped down on the blanket next to Gwen, snagged a couple of cherries from the pile and lobbed them at Arthur, who caught them neatly and popped them in his mouth. The sharp, sweet taste burst on his tongue and he smiled around the mouthful, taking a seat between Merlin and Morgana, feeling suddenly years younger.

 

*~*~*~*

As they ate Arthur listened to Gwen's chatter without hearing the words, the familiar stuttering flow of it an unexpected balm to his ears, and Morgana's easy laughter a perfect counterpoint. Merlin interacted equally with both of them, and Arthur realized that his manservant had at some point struck up a friendship with Morgana without his noticing. Given that Merlin seemed to understand Morgana's life better than Arthur did, he shouldn't have been surprised.

Watching the three of them, he felt somewhat on the outside, apart even without the crown on his head, and he took a deep drink of mead from his goblet. The honey was thick and rich on his tongue, and he could almost blame the ache in his throat on that.

Merlin, reclining on a cushion, noticed his silence and stretched out his leg to nudge Arthur in the thigh with his bare foot, boots having been discarded somewhere near the stream. Arthur grimaced at him and Merlin just smiled lazily, unrepentantly, the picture of relaxation with his blue tunic open at the throat to feel the breeze, fine black hairs peeking out. He leaned his head back to drink from his goblet and Arthur looked away.

The mead flowed freely from a seemingly never-ending supply, and after a while Arthur decided that Merlin might have the right idea after all and relaxed his spine enough to lean back on one elbow, enjoying the stretch of his back and the way the little patches of sun felt on his skin. The mead was wonderful and warming and his belly was full of smoked pork and blueberry tarts, and he thought if he tilted his head just right he could see the shape of a sleeping dragon in the clouds overhead. The voices of his companions slowed in rhythm with the mead and the warmth of the afternoon, became freer and less stilted in formality.

"And so--and so the seamstress said to the butcher, what do I look like, your wetnurse?" Gwen was laughing as she finished her tale, and the color was high in Morgana's cheeks as she gasped for breath between giggles, her head in Gwen's lap. Merlin's ears were red and he was laughing too, and Arthur thought perhaps he'd missed some bawdy joke while he was looking for dragons. Merlin's throat was pale and the tendons flashed when he laughed, and Arthur couldn't stop watching it, smiling along like he understood what was funny.

"W-wetnurse," Morgana repeated in a wobbling voice, catching Gwen's hand in her own and holding it on her flat belly in what looked like a completely familiar, unconscious gesture that caught Arthur's eye. He looked at their entwined fingers for a long minute, fingers white as milk weaved with ones the color of fertile earth. He saw Merlin watching too, with an expression that was almost hungry in its approval.

The girls seemed unaware, chattering on at each other while Gwen played with the long strands of black hair escaping Morgana's loose braid with her free hand. Both were wearing simple linen kirtles in muted green and butter yellow, bare feet peeking out from skirts, and they looked as natural as country maids. Arthur would have been hard-pressed to tell which of them was the fine lady had he not already known. He looked at Merlin in his normal outfit, brown breeches and blue tunic but minus the neckscarf--and that was it, that was why Arthur's glance kept straying to that naked throat--and then down at his own clothes. Like this, they could be anyone.

They could do anything.

"For heaven's sake, Arthur, take your boots off," Morgana admonished lightly from her position in Gwen's lap, flailing a lazy hand in his direction, maybe just a little bit drunk. "You don't have to be on guard every minute."

"Yes, we'll protect you," Gwen promised, the mead making her bold as she smiled at him, and Merlin snorted into his cup, and Arthur could not begin to count the ways he was not on guard now.

He obligingly tried to remove his boots, but the right one got stuck on his heel and he wrestled with it for a minute before Merlin leaned over and grabbed his leg. He shimmied the boot from Arthur's foot with remarkable ease, and Arthur stared at Merlin's hand wrapped around his calf and said, "I thought this was your day off."

Merlin looked up at him, tossing the boot over his shoulder to land with a thump in the grass. "Apparently I'm better at undressing you than you are, so..." and he let that hang in the air while bees droned nearby and Arthur tried to breathe through a suddenly closed throat.

"Let's play a game," Morgana cried, clapping her hands in delight and sitting up, apparently inspired by something Arthur didn't want to think too closely on. "It's called, 'I Never.'"

Arthur groaned, remembering this game from their childhood. It brought to mind rainy days spent inside the castle, when Hide-and Seek had grown tedious and they'd managed to slip their tutors. This could not mean anything good. "Morgana, no."

"I'd like to play," Merlin piped up, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. "How is it done?"

"Well, we each have to say something we've never done before, and it can be either a true or false statement. The person to your right has to guess if you're telling the truth or not, and if they guess right then they get to dare you to do something. If they guess wrong they have to take a drink."

Gwen squealed delightedly. Arthur closed his eyes and sighed.

"I'll go first," Morgana said. "I never...put itching powder in the king's bed." She looked at Arthur challengingly.

Arthur sputtered a laugh. "That's so false, I know you were the one who did that when we were ten, because it wasn't me."

Morgana pointed and smirked.

"Actually," Gwen piped up, clearing her throat. "That was me."

All heads swiveled to Gwen. "I don't believe you for a second," Merlin said, gaping at her.

"It's true, I really really did," Gwen admitted, cheeks red. "Although Morgana was the one who dared me to do it."

"Oh come on, that doesn't count then, surely?" Arthur complained, getting into the spirit of it.

"It certainly does," Morgana said sternly. "I said I never did it and I didn't. So drink up."

Arthur shook his head and finished off his cup. Merlin tossed him a skin full of mead and Arthur refilled it, and then for good measure refilled everyone else's cups too. He caught Merlin watching him merrily as he served the group and shot him a look full of daggers.

"Okay, your turn, Arthur."

Arthur thought for a minute. "I've never worn a dress," he said loftily, looking at Merlin.

Merlin looked at him with wide, wide eyes, perhaps trying to imagine Arthur in a dress and failing. "Never in a million years. True," he announced.

Arthur grinned. "What were we, Morgana, fourteen? Do you remember my father's face?"

"Oh my god," Merlin breathed.

"If I recall, it was my purple velvet cotehardie with the ermine surcoat, and I thought you looked very regal, Arthur," Morgana interjected politely.

Gwen fell over giggling, and Merlin took a long and apparently fortifying drink of mead, his eyes never leaving Arthur's.

"I never tied a cherry stem in a knot with my tongue." Merlin's voice was rough with alcohol, and he pointed expectantly at Gwen.

Gwen blushed red. "False. I mean, I didn't know anybody could do that, but if anyone could do it, you could," she said boldly, and Arthur wondered uncomfortably how she had come by that opinion.

Merlin smiled, a little bit wickedly from under his lashes. "You're right, I can."

"Ooh, I get to dare you then," Gwen said, clapping her hands together, while Arthur swallowed hard, thinking about Merlin's tongue and cherries. "I dare you to do it, Merlin. Here," she said, digging out a cherry from the bowl in the middle of the blanket and holding it out to him.

Arthur had the feeling that the afternoon was about to slip sideways just a bit when Merlin looked right at Arthur and then took the cherry from Gwen's fingers. He popped the cherry between his teeth and tugged the stem off, chewing slowly. He spit the cherry pit over his shoulder and there was no earthly reason why that should make Arthur squirm but it did, and he reflexively took another drink as Merlin dropped the stem onto his tongue.

Everyone was silent, watching Merlin's look of total concentration as he moved his mouth around, lips pursed tightly. Arthur held his breath, feeling tension coil pleasantly in his belly. When Merlin opened his mouth and showed them the little knotted stem resting on his tongue, the girls laughed in breathless delight and Arthur had to lift his leg casually to rest his elbow on his knee. Merlin glanced at him knowingly and threw the stem at him, and Arthur caught it reflexively in his hand. It was wet, and he rolled it around in his fingers.

Gwen looked sideways at Morgana with a little smile. "I've never kissed Merlin."

Morgana arched her eyebrow. "Oh that is so easy. You want me to dare you, don't you? You're such a liar," she accused, wrinkling her nose at Gwen, who laughed and glanced over at Merlin, a little shy again. Merlin was looking at her fondly, and it made Arthur's stomach turn over. Perhaps he'd had too much mead.

"I dare you to, um...kiss me instead," Morgana said triumphantly, her eyes flaring in challenge.

Gwen gave her a look that seemed to ask if Morgana was in earnest, and upon finding her answer took a deep breath and leaned toward her. Time slowed to the pace of a honey-drip as Gwen took Morgana's face in her hands and kissed her lips, sweetly and deeply, and Morgana let Gwen lick softly into her mouth with her tongue. The little noise that Morgana made seemed to echo in the clearing, out of proportion to the actual volume.

It was clear they had done this before.

The summer air felt like fire in Arthur's lungs as he watched them, and there was a strange tightness in his throat that felt like longing, and a sharp reminder of loneliness. He'd had no idea that they shared that kind of relationship, mistress and maidservant, and it was beautiful to watch, making him ache for so many things. He glanced involuntarily over at Merlin to find him watching not the girls but Arthur again, entranced. Arthur wondered what expression his own face wore to capture that kind of attention when there were girls kissing two feet away.

When they finally separated with a gentle, slick sound that Arthur felt in his groin, Merlin dragged his eyes back to them. "That's nothing like the kiss I got, Gwen," he complained, his voice deeper and rougher than Arthur had ever heard it before.

Gwen chuckled and hid her face in Morgana's neck. Morgana, for her part, looked more relaxed, not less, one arm around Gwen and smiling at Arthur like she somehow could tell what he was thinking, which was absolutely impossible because even Arthur didn't know what he was thinking. She opened her mouth, perhaps to continue the game as it was her turn, and Merlin said, "I've never kissed Arthur."

Which could have just been a statement but sounded like a challenge in the context of the game, and then Merlin bypassed Gwen altogether and said, "Morgana," loudly and clearly.

Arthur heard himself say, "Merlin--it's not your turn," in a voice that sounded very far away, and Gwen was looking from Morgana to Merlin with a frown, trying to understand.

Morgana just smiled like a chessmaster who had already seen where all the pieces would fall in the end and said, "True. I dare you to do it, then."

Merlin looked at Arthur, who was frozen in place, heart beating like a war drum. It was just a stupid game, he told himself, and there was no reason to get worked up about it. They could kiss, it wouldn't mean anything. The girls had done it, ergo it was only fair for the boys to kiss too, it didn't mean...

And his mind went blank as Merlin got to his knees and crawled the two feet over to Arthur, and Arthur suddenly remembered that awful threat he'd made the day they met about Merlin walking on his knees and he wanted to laugh but it stuck in his throat, because this was not what he'd meant. Merlin leaned over him, bracing one hand beside Arthur's hip and sliding the other hand around the back of Arthur's neck, drawing him into a kiss he had no defenses against and no excuses for.

Merlin's mouth was wet and sweet, his tongue agile, and Arthur clutched the little knotted cherry stem in his fingers to keep from reaching for Merlin. He tasted like honeyed mead and cherries, and he kissed with such assurance, such absolute disregard for which of them held all the power in the relationship, and Arthur thought there might have been something significant about that but couldn't pin it down.

And it was so unbearably gentle, so careful, that Arthur heard himself make a rough, pained noise in his throat and was appalled at allowing himself to be so open in front of anyone, laid bare for them to see. And no matter what trappings they had stripped away today, he was still their prince. He still had to lead them, to be strong. This, what Merlin was offering him, was everything he'd been longing for but it didn't allow in the slightest bit for strength. He pulled away abruptly but as gently as he could, turning his face away from the circle and breathing in the afternoon air, cooled by the shade as the sun had shifted in the sky.

Merlin was still for a moment, suspended in the position of the kiss, and then Arthur felt Merlin's hand shrinking away from his neck like parchment curling in a fire. Arthur disentangled himself slowly and clumsily and got to his feet. He didn't look at anyone as he walked away into the trees, following the cool of the shadows as the forest became denser. The grass and leaves felt wet beneath his bare feet. There was no sound behind him.

He came to a little rivulet of water where the stream had doubled back on itself, trickling down a fall of stones, and he knelt beside it to raise the water to his face with cupped hands. The water was startlingly cold, summer not having caught up with the mountains yet where the water ran down. It cooled his cheeks and washed away the taste of cherries from his tongue.

Arthur wasn't terribly startled to see Merlin standing there when he looked up. He got to his feet, squaring his shoulders as Merlin looked at him searchingly, blue eyes somber. "You forgot. I'm the prince, today and every day," Arthur said, hoping it was explanation enough.

Merlin nodded. "Yes, I know," he replied gently. "I never forgot that, despite what you think. I think maybe you just don't understand what that means, being the prince."

Arthur felt a flare of anger. "Don't you dare presume to tell me how to be a prince, Merlin. You're a servant, a terrible one at that, and you don't know anything at all." He started to push past Merlin but was caught at the elbow by a stronger hand than he'd anticipated. The motion brought their bodies flush together along their sides, and Arthur felt overheated again.

"I wasn't a servant until your father made me one," Merlin said softly. "And I don't know anything about being a prince, you're right. But I know about being a free man, and I know you, Arthur. I know you. And you can't be a good prince--a good king--without bringing all of yourself to the table too."

Arthur dipped his head down, listening against his will and breathing in the scent of Merlin too close to him and yet familiar, sweat and dirt and leather and musty parchment.

"And I think you want this," Merlin continued, his hand on Arthur's elbow turning to a caress, moving down to touch the thin skin of his wrist beneath the rolled up sleeve of his tunic. "At least, I think you want something like it. You're so alone all the time, even when you're surrounded by people. If you can't be yourself with us, Arthur, if you can't open up and let us see you, how will you ever know yourself well enough to lead a kingdom?"

It shouldn't have made any sense, Arthur thought. It sounded like one of Gwen's rambling speeches, and Arthur began to wonder if Gwen had helped Merlin prepare it. But Merlin's expression was so earnest that Arthur knew he was just speaking from a place that didn't sound entirely rational but was perhaps more true because of it.

"I don't know how," Arthur said, his own words coming from a similar place deep inside him. He lifted his hand to touch Merlin's dark hair, the shell of his ear, and Merlin shivered.

He gave a little grin, a quick flash of teeth. "Well, I hardly ever have a clue but I've never let that stop me before."

Arthur held his breath as Merlin drew him into another kiss, and for a moment Arthur let himself imagine that they weren't prince and servant but equals, and he almost liked the feeling, liked the things Merlin said to him unguarded. Merlin kept his hands above Arthur's waist and the kiss itself slow and almost chaste, but Arthur could feel how like a spark in kindling it could ignite, if they just angled it right. Oddly, he felt no rush. He finally released his breath, his chest aching, and Merlin held onto him, his mouth never stopping its gentle motions against Arthur's, and Arthur wondered at how natural it felt to kiss him, as though they'd been doing it all their lives. He wondered if it was the same for Morgana and Gwen.

"Come on," Merlin said eventually, his breathing deep and quick but even, and he led Arthur back to the clearing with a confidence in his steps that made Arthur feel better for absolutely no reason at all.

Morgana and Gwen were curled up together on the blanket asleep, arms around each other and legs tangled together with yards of linen skirts spilling out around them like sea grass in the tide. Arthur watched them for a minute while Merlin picked up Arthur's spilled goblet and straightened out the edge of the blanket a bit. He lay down on his back where Arthur had been sitting and beckoned to him.

Arthur stared at him for a minute, then at the horses, who were drowsing in their tethers. The air was hazy with mid-afternoon heat and little motes of pollen and dust swirled like fairy lights in the shafts of sunlight through the trees. There was nothing pressing for him to do, no reason for him to return to Camelot until nightfall. He looked down at Merlin, stretched out on the blanket in the grass, pale skin at his throat flashing as he swallowed, his eyes like banked fires that offered Arthur all the strength he'd ever needed.

He dropped to his knees and crawled to Merlin, who pulled him down and let Arthur arrange himself any way he wanted, finally curving around Arthur's back as they lay on their sides. Arthur could feel Merlin's heartbeat against his shoulder blades, and it was so strange to have Merlin's hand on his hip like it belonged there, like it had a right to be there, but Arthur wasn't inclined to move it off so it must have been true. Merlin said, "Arthur," softly, pressing the nape of his neck with slow kisses that demanded nothing of him but to enjoy them, and over the bowl of cherries Morgana opened her eyes.

She held Arthur's gaze for a long moment, and Arthur forgot all the years of irritation and bickering and thought instead, sister, and when Morgana stretched out her hand across the blanket he reached out and took it into his, holding on.

*~*~*~*

Arthur dreamed that Merlin was painting pictures with his fingers for Arthur, sparks of light and fire that came alive, shapes of dragons flying over their heads, and there was magic in abundance between them, strange and raw and beautiful.

When Arthur woke hours later the sun was setting, throwing streaks of red and gold into the sky and bathing the trees in a fiery glow that Arthur remembered from his dream. Merlin was sitting up beside him, fingers tangled in Arthur's hair and he was not magic, just Merlin, his big ears catching the light and his eyes reflecting the sunset. He looked down at him and Arthur's breath snagged in his chest, and he felt like he was breathing in the color of the light around them.

Gwen was singing a bard's riddling tune, " _I have a young sister far beyond the sea, and many be the gifts that she sent me. She sent me a cherry without any stone, and so she did the dove without any bone_ ," stamping her bare feet in the grass to keep the beat while Morgana danced, skirts held high around her calves as she stepped and spun and laughed, and her feet kicked up fireflies into the darkening sky. Arthur sat up and Merlin leaned in behind him, resting his sharp little chin on Arthur's shoulder, and Arthur surveyed his kingdom and found it good.

*~*~*~*

  


~end~

**Author's Note:**

> *This was written early in the series, and so obviously doesn't adhere to the later canon changes in certain characters. I like my version better. ;)
> 
> *Gwen sings an anonymous riddling song from the 15th Century, and in the intervening years many other versions have developed. I included the translation and the original lyrics here simply because it's a beautiful song. I like to think of Gwen singing it to Morgana as a lullaby when she can't sleep for the nightmares. Because I'm a big sap like that.
> 
> *Since originally posting this I came across a fantastic recording of "I Have a Yong Suster" by John Fleagle from his Worlds Bliss: Medieval Songs of Love and Death album. You can listen to it streaming for free here (http://magnatune.com/artists/albums/fleagle-bliss/). It's the very last song on the album.
> 
> *~*~*~*
> 
> I have a young sister far beyond the sea  
> And many be the gifts that she sent me
> 
> She sent me a cherry without any stone  
> And so she did the dove without any bone  
> She sent me a briar without any rind  
> She bade me love my sweetheart without any longing
> 
> Now how can any cherry be without stone  
> And how can any dove be without bone  
> How can there be a briar without any rind  
> And how can I love my sweetheart without any longing?
> 
> When the cherry was a flower, then had it no stone  
> When the dove was an egg, then had it no bone  
> When the briar was but a seed, then had it no rind  
> When the maiden has what she loves, she is without longing
> 
> *~*~*~*
> 
> (and for your edification, this is the original Middle English version, or one of them, anyway)
> 
> I have a yong suster  
> Fer biyonde the see;  
> Manye be the druries  
> That she sente me.
> 
> She sente me the cherye  
> Withouten any stoon,  
> And so she dide the dove  
> Withouten any boon.
> 
> She sente me the brere  
> Withouten any rinde;  
> She bad me love my lemman  
> Withoute longinge.
> 
> How sholde any cherye  
> Be withoute stoon?  
> And how sholde any dove  
> Be withoute boon?
> 
> How sholde any brere  
> Be withoute rinde?  
> How sholde I love my lemman  
> Withoute longinge?
> 
> Whan the cherye was a flowr,  
> Thanne hadde it no stoon;  
> Whan the dove was an ey,  
> Thanne hadde it no boon.
> 
> Whan the brere was unbred,  
> Thanne hadde it no rinde;  
> Whan the maiden hath that she loveth,  
> She is withoute longinge.
> 
> *~*~*~*


End file.
